Diana stared blankly into the hearth fire. Red-hued light lit her face in an ominous glow. Her mood matched the smoldering embers within. Longinus had been gone for nearly a week. Gone. Without so much as a word to where he was going. It seemed like more and more his plans didn't include her. She often wondered how much longer she would be any use to him. Is that how she had once felt about him? Just another person to use? She had felt nothing for Gar, to whom she had married, manipulated, killed. She had felt nothing for the countless men whom she had invited into her bed. Just stepping-stones. Just means to an end.

Why did she still care about what Longinus said or did? He had shown nothing but contempt and utter lack of regard for her lately. It was a dangerous game they played. Twice she had almost paid the price, with her life. He knew she would never leave him. She knew it as well. As sick as it sounded, she still needed him. Even though he tried to send that girl's spirit into her body. Even though he showed no concern for her life when Conor had placed her in the trap. To Longinus, her life was nothing more than a tool. Nothing more than a good bargaining position.

Lazily, she drank the rest of her wine and threw the goblet into the fire with a loud crash. She yelled at the broken shards of clay, willing their destruction even further.

The door opened with a flurry.

"My Queen?" The guard leaned in the room, military concern plastered across his face.

She turned to face him.

"I'm fine," she snapped.

Puzzled eyes stared back at her. A slow realization emerged from the depths of her drunken thoughts. He was the guard she had taken into her bed last night. Did she even know his name? Had she ever bothered to ask? Perhaps it had been loneliness. More likely, she was trying to payback Longinus. What right had he? How dare he? Entwined with the guard she had hoped Longinus would return to find them. To know that she needed him less than he needed her. To know that he was easily and utterly replaceable.

"My Queen?" the guard asked again, pulling her back out of her thoughts. Her eyes softened as she walked over to him.

"Excuse me," she purred, laying a silken hand on his arm. "I'm a bit tired and have had a little too much to drink."

Slowly her hands moved up his arms, across his shoulders and down his chest. Leaning in to his ear, she gently whispered, "Draw me a bath."

Bewildered and more than a little aroused, the guard quickly left his post. She shut the door behind him and sank into the pillows in front of the fire.


Dawn came quickly. Conor had slept, but thankfully did not dream. As the sun rose, he felt more and more convinced that he had imagined the whole thing. The dream was just that. A dream. He was worried about the Romans finding their keep. He was uneasy about the trip. Ian and his people were known to Conor. They were skilled warriors and not very trusting. In those days that seemed so long ago, Derek had spoken of that tribe with respect but caution. How he wished his father, his family was still here. Sometimes the job of leadership seemed so at odds with who he wanted to be. All of his life he had never been envious of Aiden's role as eldest. He often times looked on his older brother with pity. His destiny was fixed. In the end, so was Conor's.

Fergus poked his head into the room. "Are you ready, lad?"

"Are you that anxious to get rid of me?" He laughed back.

"Aye..." the big man smiled.

Conor got up and dressed. Again his thoughts drifted, although to a more pleasant thought. Three days might be just right to clear the air. Maybe in three days time he would know her feelings as well. Smiling to himself he grabbed his pack and headed out into the crisp morning.


"Tully!" Catlin laughed with exasperation.

How much more of his questioning could she endure?

"Just answer the question," he ribbed her.

Blushing she looked away from him.

"Nothing is going on. He's still mourning Claire... We're just friends."

"Well," he said smiling, "I don't believe you!"

She rolled her eyes and picked up her pack. On her way out the door Tully stopped her.

"Catlin..." his tone had changed abruptly.

There was a decided serious cast to the way he spoke her name. Looking into his eyes, the smile slowly ebbed from her face.

"What is it?"

"I have a really bad feeling about this trip... I just hope you'll be careful."

He looked at her for a moment, then impulsively kissed her on the cheek and ran out into the early morning. She followed him out, but he was already gone, disappeared into thin air.

Her gaze traveled across the distance to Conor. His spirits seemed lifted from the night before. A smile crookedly played across his face as Fergus slapped him on the back. Shaking off the foreboding feeling of Tully's warning, Catlin smiled back at the two men and made her way to where they waited.

"Ah, lass. Did you sleep well?" Fergus greeted her.

Conor's gaze shot to her face asking her to forget his strange visit.

"I'm ready to go," she avoided him.

Tying her pack to the roan mare she turned back to face the two.

"Are you ready Conor?" she questioned pulling herself onto the animal's back.

"Take care, old man," he smiled, clapping Fergus on the back. "And remember, if you do a good enough job, you may find yourself the permanent leader."

"Not bloody likely," Fergus laughed.

Conor leapt into the saddle. In a moment, they were off.

Fergus watched them leave, wondering where Tully had gone. It wasn't like him to not wish his friends well. Glancing up into the sky he noticed large dark clouds rolling in. Distant thunder rumbled. Feeling a sudden chill, Fergus pulled his gray cloak tighter around him. Never one to fearfully believe premonition, he was suddenly struck with the thought that he'd never see his friends alive again.


Longinus opened his eyes. In an instant he knew. The druid's spell had worked. The nightmares had begun. A low laugh emerged from his mouth. The dusty light of dawn pressed through the cracks in the old wizard's hut. A glint of sun shined on the object in his hand: a small, thin, silver dagger. Turning it over in his palm, he stared at the blade. How small, how insignificant had it been? And now the dried blood upon its blade had given him the chance for true revenge. The weapon had been thrown across the room and had stuck in the boy's leg, wounding him slightly. Discarded with a small wince and left forgotten on the floor.

When all was said and done, the dagger's owner was dead. Longinus remembered the words the girl had read from the scroll.


"...But have faith, for there is no greater truth than the one that lives in you."

From below, he heard the sound of Diana's guards approaching. The boy looked towards the stairs with alarm, realizing their perilous situation.

"Come, this way," the guardian of the tower had urged, ushering them to a door in the back of the room.

Conor stood and regarded Longinus with an uneasy stare, his young gaze fixed on the hollow eyes of the immortal.

"Go," Longinus said, gesturing towards the door.

Casting another glance to the stairs, Conor disappeared into the small hidden chamber. Longinus began to leave when he caught sight of the dagger. It glistened red, the boy's blood beginning to dry upon the blade. Impulsively, he picked it up and carefully placed it in his pocket, then started down the stairs to meet Diana. He would tell her that all had been destroyed and the prisoners had fled to the woods.


Twice that night he had shown the Prince mercy. Twice that night he had saved his life. Longinus had only ever asked him for once small gift in return: peace. Eternal peace. He had begged Conor to grant him his one wish, but the Prince dismissed him and left him to suffer. Now it was his turn to make the boy pay. He wondered what terrible losses Conor would suffer in his sleep. What was it he valued most? The Confederation? His friends? His home? Perhaps it was a woman... The girl. That must be it. Again Longinus' mind drifted to the past. Diana's bedchamber. The boy begging for her help, his help to free his friend.


"The question is... what are you willing to sacrifice in return?" Longinus posed.

"Everything."


It hadn't merely been his answer, but the look in his eyes, the desperation in his plea. Later, when he had gone to the chamber, Conor had threatened him.


"If anything happens to her... if you make it worse in any way... you'll wish you'd killed me when you had the chance."


Longinus smiled. This was almost going to be too easy. Every night, Conor's dreams would be full of her death. Every night Conor would watch in horror, unable to stop it. And every night her death would come at the hands of a man Conor had refused to kill, when he had the chance. Eventually, when the time was right, he would capture her and kill her. And so the game would go until he had succeeded in destroying all that Conor cared for. He would leave the boy to live, of course, for his existence, soulless and seemingly unending, would be his true punishment.

He was snapped back to the reality of the present by the sound of the old druid shuffling about. How interesting. Men of religion were supposed to be divine. Ordained by the gods to serve. Yet he could always find one who had his price. It was true on this island. It was true in Rome. The old ways as well as the new.

Anxious to return to work, Longinus slipped out the door and into the woods, leaving behind only a small bag of coins and a brand upon the arm of his host.